


Changing Ocean Tides

by TheFandomLesbian



Series: Angela's Raulson One-Shots [19]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Blind Cordelia, F/F, Fluff, No Smut, One Shot, Romance, foxxay - Freeform, goode-day, raulson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomLesbian/pseuds/TheFandomLesbian
Summary: When a horrible accident in the greenhouse nearly kills Cordelia, she fears returning for her own safety. Misty takes it upon herself to help the blind witch navigate the messy building so she doesn't lose her only remaining passion.





	Changing Ocean Tides

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt: "Misty helps Cordelia organize her greenhouse so she knows where everything is after the acid attack."

“ _Oh, mirror in the sky_

_ What is love? _

_ Can the child within my heart rise above? _

_ Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides? _

_Can I handle the seasons of my life?_ ” -Stevie Nicks, “Landslide” 

 

...

Bowed over a pot of vegetable soup in the kitchen with Zoe, Misty watched the tomato juice burble. The front door swung open. It slammed against the wall. “Myrtle!” Fiona’s shriek shook the house. “Myrtle! Help me!” Misty glanced over at Zoe with a confused look, but Zoe perked up with just as much perplexion on her face. “Myrtle, so help me  _ god! _ ” 

Myrtle trotted down the stairs, out of Misty’s line of sight. “Fiona, what on  _ earth _ \--Oh, my sweet Cordelia!” Misty and Zoe both dropped their knives and spoons and went to the door frame of the kitchen. 

In the living room, Fiona dragged an unconscious Cordelia alongside her. Blood poured from Cordelia’s nose and mouth. Her jaw hung slack. Her hand clutched a pair of garden shears which had plunged deep into her abdomen. The Supreme’s limbs forfeited the last of their meager strength, and they both collapsed onto the floor. The impact jostled the garden shears. The blood trickling from around them grew into a gush. “No, no, no--” Cordelia’s eyes rolled back into her skull, the marbled texture giving way to whites, and her limbs tightened. “No! Myrtle, help me!” 

Myrtle ran to her side and dropped to her knees, but her hands flailed just as helplessly as Fiona’s over Cordelia’s seizing body. She collected a handful of Cordelia’s clothing and shifted her onto her side. She retched and vomited into Fiona’s lap. “What happened?”

“She was in the greenhouse!” Fiona’s hysterical voice crawled up the octave. “There was ivy around her ankles--she was lying in face-first in the belladonna when I found her!” 

All of the hair on the back of Misty’s neck stood up. A cold chill tingled down her spine. Her belly flipped with a familiar sensation--the call of death. A soul leaving its body called out to her. On the floor, Cordelia’s seizure abated. Myrtle pulled her hair back out of her face to examine the rash on her face. “She’s dying.” Misty’s own voice surprised her. She expected it to remain caught in her throat. 

Fiona lifted her gaze from Cordelia’s slack face. She stood unsteadily. “Listen to me, you little swamp cretin--” Zoe took a few big steps away from Fiona. Misty held firm, setting her jaw and gazing into her eyes. “You keep yourself and your dirty hands and your nasty muddy magic  _ away _ from my daughter!” 

“She’s right--Fiona, I’m losing her pulse!” 

Myrtle’s words grabbed Fiona’s attention away from Misty. Zoe flanked Misty, reaching for her hand. Myrtle reached for the garden shears. “No, no, don’t mess with those! She’ll bleed out!”

“She’s bleeding out anyway!” Fiona slapped Myrtle across the face hard. “You may slap me however you like!  _ You’re  _ the Supreme! You’re the one who can save her!” 

“I’m not strong enough!” Fiona shrieked. “I  _ tried! _ I can’t do it!” 

A frigid blanket settled across Misty’s shoulders. Death had taken its hold on Cordelia’s body, and the soul cried out for her. She pushed between Myrtle and Fiona. “Zoe, help me.” She hoisted the still corpse up off of the carpet, now covered in blood. She took the garden shears out of Cordelia’s wound and left them there on the floor as she dragged her under the arms. Zoe stared back at her, mute with disbelief. “You know what? I’ll do it myself.” She bent down and gathered Cordelia’s body in her arms. She was solid weight, and she flopped backward without any spine. Her urine and blood poured all over Misty’s clothing. Her eyes burned with tears. She bit the tip of her tongue. “Somebody get the goddamn door.” 

“Where do you think you’re taking her?” 

“I’m taking her to the greenhouse where I can fix her!” Misty’s arms trembled with the effort of lifting Cordelia’s frame. Her lower lip trembled. “Get out of my way!” Fiona’s face churned with vitriol, but Misty was quicker to spit venom at the Supreme. “Miss Cordelia said the coven was here to protect us! But you can’t even protect your own daughter from a pair of garden shears! I think I’ll take my chances in the swamp against the witch hunters!”

“Then do it!” 

Myrtle rose and took Fiona by the arm. “Fiona, she’s trying to help.” 

Misty hardly heard her. “I will!” she snapped. “And I’m taking her with me!” Myrtle opened the door, and she stormed out of the house, down the stairs of the porch, and followed the sidewalk to the greenhouse. A car on the street slowed to watch her carry the heavily bleeding corpse through the yard, but she ignored it. It was not her problem if the police showed up. 

She placed Cordelia on the lounge chair and cut her shirt away from the gaping wound on her stomach. It plunged deep into her abdomen, her innards peering out at the world. Misty swallowed hard. “It’s okay.” The death was still fresh. Misty wore gooseflesh all over her arms and legs. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.” Cordelia was dead--she couldn’t hear her--but speaking to her comforted Misty. She went to the garden hose and dumped several pots of old soil into a five gallon bucket, and then she cranked up the stream of water into the dry dirt to turn it into mud. 

Filled to the brim, Misty heaved the heavy bucket back to Cordelia’s side. She plunged her hands into it and slung the mud over Cordelia’s abdomen. Tears fell from her eyes into the mud. The grit coated her hands; she couldn’t wipe away her tears. Wetting a dirty washcloth, she wiped the blood away from Cordelia’s broken nose--Misty assumed she had landed on it in her fall--and mouth. “It’s gonna be alright.” Misty’s voice was thick with tears in her throat. “I’m gonna fix you right up, Miss Cordelia.” She wiped away her snot with the back of her hand and left a streak of dirt on and under her nose. Little dabs of mud appeared on the rash on her face where Misty placed them. She put some on the bridge of Cordelia’s broken nose, too. 

She pressed both of her hands to Cordelia’s chest. Reaching into her body, she followed the tether from Cordelia’s physical person to her soul.  _ Come back to me.  _ Her hands slid up Cordelia’s neck and framed her cheeks.  _ Come back to me.  _ Her magic summoned the spirit, a lighthouse guiding her back to her home. 

Energy flowed from Misty’s palms into Cordelia’s corpse. It healed all of the places she was hurt. The wound on her abdomen knitted without so much of a scar left in remnant. Her nose clicked back in place. Then, with a loud gasp, Cordelia sat up, both hands bracing on the arms of the lounge chair. “Oh, bon dieu!” Misty flung her hands around Cordelia’s neck and hugged her tightly. Cordelia’s hands fumbled for a moment before they closed around Misty’s waist, reciprocating the embrace. Her face buried in Misty’s hair. The feeling of her breath on her face eased Misty’s soul. 

Reluctantly, Misty disentangled herself from around Cordelia. Cordelia blinked a few times, her marbled eyes gazing at nothing at all. “Misty?” Her hands slid up from Misty’s waist and covered her face, mapping out her way to confirm her identity. “Where am I?” 

“We’re in the greenhouse. You’re--You’re okay. I fixed you.” 

Cordelia’s hands, still covered in soil from her work in the gardening pots, wiped away Misty’s tears. “Thank you.” She pushed herself up with a grimace, trying to cover her exposed skin where Misty had cut away her clothing. Misty grabbed an apron and tossed it over her. “Does my mother know?” 

Guilt pierced Misty’s gut. Her outburst at Fiona certainly hadn’t done anything to help Cordelia. “She was the one who found you.” Cordelia sighed with frustration. “I’m sorry.” She stared down at Cordelia, admiring the way her body moved with vitality. Cordelia was  _ alive _ . Misty was so excited from it, she didn’t have the room to feel tired from the feat of performing her magic. “Do--Do you remember what happened?” she asked in a small voice. 

A slow nod followed from Cordelia. She cleared her throat. “Nothing, really. I was trying to find my belladonna--without smelling it, because it’s pretty dangerous. I just didn’t feel the ivy around my ankles, and I tripped.” She touched her face with her hands. “This was the last thing I really thought I could do…” she whispered to herself. 

Misty’s face fell. “You can still do it! We just have to get this place a little more organized, so it won’t be so dangerous.” 

A meek smile touched Cordelia’s lips, but it was sad. “Thank you, Misty.” She stood unsteadily. “Is Fiona…?” 

“She’s ready to spit fire. I’m pretty sure she won’t let me back in, being I kinda kidnapped your corpse. But she’ll be glad to see you.” 

Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “No… She won’t be. She’ll be glad to yell at me about how stupid I am.” She rubbed her eyes with her fists. “Thank you for saving me.” She reached for Misty, and Misty took her hand with a dim smile. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” Misty squeezed her hand. “I had to. Couldn’t stand to see you like that.” She rolled Cordelia’s dirty hand between her own. “I’ll go in with you. If she starts screaming at you, I’ll give her a reason to scream at me instead. She’s got plenty of those, anyway.” 

“What did you say to her?”

Misty wondered how honest she could be with Cordelia, but she decided it was best to go with the whole truth, since Cordelia would See it anyway. She caressed the back of Cordelia’s hand with her thumb and drew little patterns on it. “I might have told her that if she couldn’t save you from a pair of garden shears, I would take my chances in the swamp with the witch hunters. And then she told me to leave, and maybe I told her I was leaving and taking you with me.” Cordelia raised her eyebrows. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have hollered at her. I knew better.”

Cordelia shook her head. “No, no--I’m not upset. I’m grateful.” She unfolded her fingers from around Misty’s, and Misty expected her to pull away, but instead she lifted their hands and framed them palm to palm, finger to finger. Misty took her other hand and did the same, feeling the way their hands fit together. Misty’s hands were longer than Cordelia’s. She had callouses on her skin from all of the hard labor; Cordelia’s hands were softer. A tiny smile inclined on Cordelia’s mouth. “Were you serious?” 

Tilting her head, Misty asked, “About what?” 

“Taking me.”

“Oh--well, I mean, if she won’t let us back in, then yeah, definitely.” She grinned stupidly at the thought of stealing Cordelia away to the swamp and protecting her from all the elements in her cabin.  _ Don’t be an idiot. Cordelia would hate it. She showers every day.  _ “But, ideally, she’ll let us come back in the house and will forgive me being all mouthy and horrible.” 

Cordelia’s smile mirrored her own, and she leaned her head forward. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be too horrible.” Misty blushed as she realized Cordelia had Seen her vision for a hypothetical future. She folded their fingers together and helped Cordelia to her feet. “Thank you,” Cordelia said again. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Misty whispered. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” She loosened her fingers from Cordelia’s to hug her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “How do you feel?” 

“I’m fine. Thanks to you.” Cordelia inhaled deeply into Misty’s hair. 

Misty closed her eyes as she clung to Cordelia. “Miss Cordelia, can I--can I tell you something?” Cordelia hummed a vague agreement. “I really like you.”  _ She knows that already, _ her mind mocked her, but she tried to push those dark voices away as she focused on staring at Cordelia’s pretty face, following the freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. 

One of the hands left hers, and for a moment, she feared she had made a grave error, but it brushed against her cheek. She leaned into the caress. “I like you a lot, too.” Misty bowed a little and kissed Cordelia on her dry lips, a tender peck. Cordelia smiled. It was more genuine than before. She moved her hand across Misty’s face, clumsily pawing at it, and Misty closed her eyes and allowed her map things out with her hands before she kissed her back, an equally chaste motion. “We absolutely cannot tell Fiona.”

“Why would I tell Fiona? I find it easier kissing you when my head is attached to my body.” Misty smiled into the palm of Cordelia’s hand. 

Cordelia cracked a small smile. “Just in case you were thinking about it… Please.” 

“I won’t tell a soul. I promise.” Misty didn’t have anyone to tell. Nobody cared about her, except maybe Zoe, and even that was iffy. Somehow, she sensed no one gave a damn whether she liked Cordelia or a weeping willow tree. Tugging herself away, she headed across the greenhouse to the place where Cordelia had been working--it was easily identifiable. All of the plants had been swept off of the table and their ceramic pots shattered on the floor. Her cane laid discarded beside the pool of blood where she had lain in agony.  _ How long was she like that?  _ Misty wanted to know, but she was afraid to ask. She picked up the cane and wiped the blood off of it. “Here.” She brought it back to Cordelia and put it in her hand. 

They wandered back into the house, up the steps, Cordelia clinging to Misty’s arm for guidance. Misty opened the front door. 

The dirty carpet which had been covered with Cordelia’s blood was already gone. Myrtle rose from the ottoman and hugged Cordelia. “Oh, my dearest Cordelia. It was so distressing to see you in such a state. I knew our Misty would heal you as good as new.” 

Fiona rounded the corner from the kitchen. “Not good as new,” she said loftily. “She’s still blind.” Cordelia grimaced. Misty resisted the urge to grab her hand and drag her back out the door; she didn’t want to listen to Fiona degrade Cordelia, especially after what happened, but it wasn’t her place to intervene. “What took you so long?” 

“I was busy fixing the big hole in her stomach. You know, the one you couldn’t heal.” 

“Misty, don’t.” At the chiding, Misty set her jaw, resigning herself to say nothing else, as tempting as it was. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

“Be careful you don’t fall in there, too!” Fiona snapped. “But at least  _ that _ wouldn’t ruin my favorite carpet.”

“I’m well aware you love the furniture more than you love me, Mother. You don’t need to sprinkle in reminders at every turn.” Cordelia spoke in a deadpan, but the corners of her lips tilted downward. Her self-esteem shrank with every quip Fiona laid across her shoulders, sharp as a whip. 

Fiona scoffed. “Please. I have no desire to bury you. Stay out of that greenhouse! You have no business out there, anyway. You’re lucky you haven’t brewed some poison and gassed all of us instead of stabbing yourself.” Cordelia used her cane to head up the stairs with Misty on her arm. “You hear me?” Fiona repeated, voice growing more shrill. “You don't belong out there! You'll get yourself hurt! And I don't want to be patching you up anymore!”

Misty whirled around, ready to spit fire at the Supreme, but Cordelia dragged her along, and she bit the tip of her tongue and desperately fought to keep her temper in check. She longed to tell off Fiona.  _ As long as I'm around, you won't ever need to touch her!  _ But those words would only hurt Cordelia, and she didn't want to do anything to make things worse for her. Misty followed Cordelia to her bedroom door. “Can we try to kill her again?” she asked a little too brightly. 

Air rushed out of Cordelia’s nose in a snorted, silent laugh. “Thank you, Misty.” She lifted one shaky hand and placed it on Misty's cheek. Her lips trembled, pushing outward and sucking back inward with hesitance. “I appreciate your dedication, but… I think we're trapped with her, at least for awhile.” Her lips pursed. Misty smiled and pecked the frown off of them. Cordelia grinned in response. “Thank you.” The flush to her cheeks warmed Misty's heart. Her hand landed on the door handle. “Would you like to come inside?” 

Eyes brightening with delight, Misty nodded. “Yeah, of course! But, er, we're kinda dirty…” They were both covered in blood and dried mud. “Maybe I oughta shower and come back.” Misty didn't want to track a bunch of filth through Cordelia’s room. 

Cordelia blinked a few times. The thin, mutilated pink skin on eyelids shifted with an uncertain smile. “I wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to join me.” 

Misty's eyes widened. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one could overhear. “I--You want that?” Cordelia nodded, a slow affirmation. Misty gulped. She couldn't say no. What was there to say no to? She wasn't insecure about her body--and even if she was, Cordelia couldn't  _ see  _ her, so what did it matter? Cordelia trusted her with something enormous. She was in no position to throw it away. “I'd love to.” She followed Cordelia into her bedroom, and the door closed behind them. 

... 

In spite of their new, if secret, relationship, Cordelia sank into her period of solemness just like before--just like Misty had always known her. Fiona barred her from leaving the house without permission, including going to the greenhouse. “C’mon,” Misty pleaded with her one night as Cordelia studied her guide to Braille with her fingers. “You never listened to anything she said before. I know you want to take care of your plants.” She had expected Cordelia to take Fiona's words with a grain of salt, but instead, she seemed to have internalized her darkness.

Cordelia didn't lift her bowed head from where she faced the Braille guide. She was propped up on pillows on the bed, Misty lying on her abdomen beside her. “You can take care of the plants,” she said in a flat voice. “They're plants. They don't know the difference.”

“They're  _ magic _ plants. I'll be damned if they can't detect a magic signature.” She elicited no answer from Cordelia. Pressing a little harder, she nuzzled up against Cordelia’s warm side, staring down at the alphabetical guide, though she couldn't recognize what any of the raised bumps meant on the page. “I'm not as good at it as you are. Sometimes I give them the wrong fertilizer. Sometimes I give them too much water.” Her girlfriend still didn't reply. “Your belladonna is going to be drowned if you don't help her soon.” Even the mention of Cordelia’s favored batch of nightshade didn't disturb her. “What's the matter? Talk to me.” 

Setting her jaw, Cordelia lifted her hand from the guide and put the paper with the raised dots aside. She opened her hand. Misty took it. “Fiona’s right. I don’t have any business going out there. It’s dangerous. I need to accept my limitations.” 

Misty frowned, curling her fingers through Cordelia’s and admiring the softness of her hands. “You may have limitations, but I think they’re a little bit further than the walls of this house. You haven’t gone anywhere in days.” She rested her head on Cordelia’s shoulder. Cordelia propped her head against Misty’s. “Will you do it if I go with you? I promise I won’t let you get hurt.” 

Clicking her tongue, Cordelia gave a sad shake of her head. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life bothering people to watch me do things I should be able to do by myself.” 

“So you’re going to spend the rest of your life doing nothing instead?” Cordelia moved away from her and withdrew her hand. “Oh, c’mon. I don’t mean it like that. You had one accident. Things like that can happen to anybody. It’s like--” Cordelia turned away from her, and Misty grabbed onto her waist to try to hold her back and make her listen. “It’s like the whole world is a swimming hole, and you’re somebody who doesn’t know how to swim. But people who  _ do _ know how to swim drown every day. And we can give you tools to make sure you don’t drown, even though you can’t swim.” 

“Misty, no.” 

The sharp tone to Cordelia’s voice stung in Misty’s eyes. She bit her lower lip. “Alright. I’m sorry.” She curled up beside Cordelia on the bed, hesitantly brushing her hip with her hand. She didn’t want to let Cordelia escape her touch. Cordelia didn’t have her eyes anymore; her skin was her eyes. And Misty wanted to be seen all the time. “Tell me what I can do.” 

Cordelia rolled over to face her. Tears slid down her cheeks. Misty took her face between her hands to wipe away the tears with her thumbs. Leaning forward, Cordelia bumped their foreheads and noses together, and Misty kissed her on her moist lips. “What do you look like?” she whispered into Misty’s mouth. “I’ve never seen you--I want to know what you look like.” Misty blinked a few times at the request. She hadn’t considered it before, that Cordelia had never seen her, but it was true. Cordelia liked her, and she had never even seen her face. “Please,” she repeated. 

Misty could deny Cordelia nothing. She kissed her again, all the while imagining herself looking in the mirror like she had done that morning. The image was still fresh in her mind. Her hair was frizzy and wild from a tumultuous night’s sleep, and she wore circles under her eyes like a raccoon where she struggled to sleep in the crowded house. Cordelia kissed her back. Fingers threaded through her curly hair and pulled tight. “You’re so beautiful.” 

She exhaled into the kiss. “Don’t give up on yourself.” Caressing Cordelia’s cheeks, she gazed at the marbled eyes. “You’re so much more than this… You know it. Don’t give up on yourself.” She pecked tears off of her face with her lips. “I know you can do it. I know it.” 

Cordelia wept into Misty’s chest. Her silence was heavy as a stone settling in the bottom of her soul. 

…

The idea struck Misty several days later while she tended Cordelia’s plants in the greenhouse. She glanced up at the clock to see if dinner was coming up. She stared at the clock face for a long moment, and then she blinked. “That’s it!” 

The hours passed in the blink of an eye, and long after darkness fell over the city, Myrtle rapped on the door of the greenhouse. “Misty, dear? Cordelia’s been waiting on you. What on earth are you doing?” 

Misty was elbow-deep in soapy, bloody water where she scrubbed the blood stain off of the floor. Cordelia couldn’t see it, but she didn’t want anything horrific to mar the future of greenhouse for her partner. “I’m organizing.” Myrtle arched an eyebrow at her. “It’s a surprise. I can’t tell you, ‘cause she’ll touch you and then she’ll see. But give me a few more hours.” Misty popped up off the floor and swept up all of the trimmings she had made. She had removed everything from the floor and placed the plants on tables, and she had trimmed everything from the plants where it wasn’t necessary. There was no more clutter. Everything had a place. 

“These plants look wonderful. Glowing with health.”

“Thanks! Do we have plywood?” 

“Plywood? Well--I suppose, yes, in the garage. What will you do with that?”

“Surprise!”

Myrtle inclined her eyebrows. “Right, right, right. I’ll tell Cordelia you’re preparing something for her. Don’t stay up too long, dear.”

Though well-intentioned, the words had no effect on Misty whatsoever. She found plywood and a saw in the garage, and she worked at hacking through the wood and smoothing all of the edges. She mounted the wood pieces between each plant to separate them.  _ I gotta get labels.  _ Misty didn’t know enough Braille yet to have the ability to chisel names into wood, but she put pieces aside, deciding that Cordelia could help her with that later. She placed the plants around the building in alphabetical order, left to right, with the big table in the middle empty for a large work space. Nothing on the floor, nothing to chance--all of the gardening tools went in their own locations apart from the plants, including the garden shears and the shovels.

Dawn broke the horizon, and Misty was hard at work. The change in the sunlight let her turn off the overhead light in the greenhouse, but it didn’t ease her labor. But, when she finally took a step back to admire her hard work, a quiet clearing throat interrupted her thoughts. “Misty?” Cordelia tapped her cane right outside the open door of the greenhouse and used it to navigate over the protruding door frame. 

She grinned in spite of the exhaustion in her eyes. “Hey.”

“Is this your plan? Hiding out here until I come find you?” 

A low chuckle left Misty’s lips. “No, that would’ve been a lot less work. C’mon.” She went to Cordelia’s side. “I rearranged everything. Listen to this.” She pressed play on the tape recorder. Her own voice looped back at her. “Abuta: between twelve and one. Acacia: one. Aconite: after one. Barberry: before two.” She paused it, but Cordelia’s expression of confusion instead of excitement made her clarify. “The building is like a clock face, see? We’re standing on the twelve, as soon as we walk in, and to the left is one and two and three is in the middle and six is straight down. The recording is to help you find where things are--and they’re in alphabetical order, too. Nothing’s on the floor anymore. Won’t trip you up again.” Cordelia swept the ground with her cane, but nothing interrupted her path. She brushed her free hand against the table holding all of the plants. “And the table in the middle is for you to work. Big work space.” 

Cordelia brushed her hand against the plywood separating the plants. “Misty… This is amazing.” Her fingertips teased the fuzzy leaves of a lamb’s ear plant. She released the plant and rounded the table. The big aisles left her plenty of room, so she didn’t bump into the table corners, and she met Misty again in the front of the greenhouse. She placed a hand on Misty’s hip. “I can’t believe you did this.” 

“Do you like it?” 

Tears escaped from beneath the dark lenses of her sunglasses. Misty caught them with her thumbs and bowed down to kiss her as she nodded. “I love it. Thank you. Thank you so much.” 

Misty smiled. “So you want to get right to work, right?” 

Cordelia sniffled, shaking her head with incredulity. “Why--Why are you asking me that?”

“‘Cause I just stayed up all night fixing this for you, and I think I might like the whole bed to myself when I crash in a few minutes.” 

Cordelia laughed. “Yeah--Yeah. You can have the whole bed. You can have whatever you want.” She hugged Misty tight around the middle and buried her face into Misty’s golden hair. “Thank you so much.” She rested her chin on Misty’s shoulder. “You really don’t give up, do you?” 

“Not when it comes to you.” 


End file.
